


Power Outage

by themoonandmargot



Category: Rhett & Link
Genre: And Some Nudity Of Course, Just Harmless Fun, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-08-08
Updated: 2017-08-08
Packaged: 2018-12-12 14:39:23
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,992
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11739135
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/themoonandmargot/pseuds/themoonandmargot
Summary: Late nights at the office call for the strangest predicaments. Tonight is no exception, not for two sleep-deprived Internetainers.





	Power Outage

**Author's Note:**

> This is dedicated to @kpuff23, who sent in a prompt for a short lil headcanon and instead got an almost-2k-word fic in return. She's a super nice Mythical Beast, so go follow her if you're on Tumblr!

The office is dull, hazy in a way that makes it seem unfamiliar. They’ve set a personal record by staying at the office this late (the last few employees would’ve locked up and left the building about five hours ago), and it’s definitely doing a number on the boys. The bright, artificial lighting in the office tells Link that it’s time to work, while today’s fourth mug of coffee tells him he should fall into bed and never get up until next year. _All for a dumb costume._

Okay, so maybe a lot of time and effort went into making this costume that really isn’t dumb at all. Maybe it looks fantastic, and maybe it’s just what they need to make this new sketch epic. At least Rhett can stay the long hours with him, just so there’s another tired pair of eyes to look things over and determine what changes are needed, if any. And tired Rhett is.

“Whaddya think a fondue-only restaurant would be called?” Rhett babbles from behind his phone. Link looks up from his outfit to Rhett’s reflection in their dressing room mirror. They’re both so used to changing in front of each other that Rhett has opted to sit in the chaise lounge chair against the wall, and Link has allowed him to stay.

“I dunno, man. Fon… Fon-Do You Want a Stick?”

Incredulous, Rhett screws up his face at the mirror. “Fon-Do You Want a Stick?” he repeats, horrified. “What stick are you offering them?”

Link giggles, rubbing his neck in embarrassment. “You know, the stick. To…” He bunches up his hand, as if brandishing a rapier, and then jabs the air with his imaginary weapon.

Rhett raises his eyebrows. “To handle the food, you mean? They’re called forks, Link. They’re just prongs attached to really long handles.” Shaking his head, he returns his attention back to his phone. “ _Stick._ ”

“Hey, whatever! _Fork_ you, man, you know my brain isn’t functioning correctly right now!”

“Is it ever?”

Rhett laughs at Link’s grin, playful and unconcealed. “Shut up and look at your phone,” Link spits as he holds his costume up to his body.

He’ll be playing Charles, one of the many futuristic guards at The Institution of Covert Experimentation, or as regarded by government officials and pizza delivery guys alike, I.C.E. The “covert experimentation” happens to be cloning, a direct continuation of the BFFs storyline. The boys have an idea of the challenges ahead of them, but if the quality of this costume is any indication, this video will be one of their most ambitious yet.

For three minutes, Link toys with the asymmetrical ensemble and its various ornaments. He can’t tell which parts detach or not, but he’s not about to try and find out. He shimmies out of his cotton joggers with a grunt, then pulls the one-piece outfit onto his legs. Still shirtless, he looks at himself in the mirror. The pants squeeze his thighs a bit too tightly, while the hems fall a few inches up his calves. Nothing a pair of rubber boots can’t fix.

Link has to duck down to reach the armholes of the getup, but the fabric near his hips is so tight that he worries standing up straight will rip out some stitches. Instead, he keeps his shoulders low and fiddles with the costume’s zipper. It’s an interesting zipper, one that starts at his collar and trails down to his behind. Link thought zipping it all the way down would create the greatest obstacle for him, but even more difficult is finding how it zips at all.

The pull tab sits on his neck, right under his goozle. For it to reach his butt at all, he would have to decapitate himself. Something is definitely wrong.

“Hey, Rhett,” he calls. “How am I s’posed to zipper this thing?”

Rhett looks up, making a face at Link’s appearance. He studies Link for a second before guffawing loudly and bending over into his lap. “How did you...?”

“How did I do what?” Link glances at the mirror again. He joins Rhett’s laughter, but he doesn’t know why.

Rhett unfurls his spine and looks up, red-faced and trembling with hysteria. “Okay, I have no idea how you did this,” he snickers, “but you somehow managed to put on that outfit backwards _and_ upside-down.”

He chortles again, leaving Link with another confused look at the mirror. His mistakes reveal themselves much more clearly now, with his body hunched over and showcasing the entire curvature of his backside. _Like a humpback whale,_ he faintly recalls.

“Aw, man, I…”

“Just how tired are you right now?”

“I told you my brain ain’t functioning right now! Dangit! I was like, ‘How do I zipper this?’ I’m such an idiot.” With Rhett chuckling in the background, Link shakes his arms out the (pants) sleeves and leaves the fabric hanging over his crotch. He goes to tug the cloth on his legs when his complete field of vision turns inky black. Even more unsettling is the sudden absence of sound throughout the entire office.

Link turns to the mirror and spots Rhett’s face, illuminated by his phone screen. They share a look, then Rhett asks, “Did the power just go out?”

Link snorts. “I would assume so.”

Using his phone as a flashlight, Rhett stands up and peeks out the dressing room door. The same darkness shrouds the main space of the office and leaves it eerily quiet. “Hello?” Rhett calls, earning a smack on the arm from his friend.

“Hey, you’ve watched the horror movies,” Link hisses. “You don’t just call out into a dark house at night. That’s how you get killed. Murderers always roam in the dark.”

He senses the roll of Rhett’s eyes. “I was just making sure none of the crew members were still out there,” Rhett reasons. He steps into the hallway for a second, then turns back to Link. “You think I should check the power box outside?”

Link lays a hand on Rhett’s arm, keeping him back. “What? No. Then you’ll actually get killed.” Rhett doesn’t need to see Link in order to know he’s not joking; he can hear the tremor in his words. He steps back inside the room, but Link still persists. “Anyway, I need you to help me take this thing off. It’s real stuck on there and I don’t wanna rip it. Plus it’d be a real shame if the police had to find me in a puddle of my own blood with these things stuck on my legs.”

“Yeah, the pants are what’s tragic,” Rhett murmurs, shuffling past his friend. Link follows Rhett into the center of the room, where he can stretch atop the large ottoman. Rhett positions himself in front of Link, and only now does he realize how odd it is for them to be working so quietly. It’s as if they’ve done this before. _As if Rhett has tons of experience taking Link’s clothes off in the dark._ A more rested mind would’ve dismissed the thought hastily, but the nineteen sleepless hours of the day find this a great episode idea. Rhett will have to pitch the idea to Link later.

With his phone flashlight as their single source of light, Rhett only has one free hand to grapple onto Link’s pants. He suspects that it won’t be as difficult as Link suggests, that he’s exaggerating in his Link way. But then he tugs on the edge of the fabric for the first time and elicits an unabashed yelp from the man before him. “You alright?” Rhett asks.

“This thing is squeezing my… everything,” Link says, out of breath and laughing a bit. “Do it again, harder this time.”

Rhett eyes him for a second— _word choice, Link_ —before slipping his phone into his back pocket. He has an inkling this task requires two hands. He grips both hems and yanks, dragging Link and the ottoman an inch across the floor. It fills the room with a hellish grating sound, but Link doesn’t seem to mind.

“Harder, man! Put some oomph in it!” he yells, waving his arms with a somewhat aggressive vigor.

Rhett tugs again, this time pulling Link straight off the ottoman. He lands on the floor with a hefty thud. Link’s groan turns into giggles as he rubs his backside. Neither of them can see each other, but Rhett laughs with him once he hears no one is seriously hurt.

“Okay, okay,” Link titters, “they’re almost off, but I think they need one more good yank. They’re, like, actually uncomfortable, man.”

“I know they are. It’s not like I don’t believe you,” Rhett snickers, crouching in front of Link’s outstretched legs.

If there were any murderers outside the room before, all of them would’ve been scared off by now. The various grunts and heavy breathing imply a scenario far different than the one they’re actually in, and they sure don’t look any better. Even from a modest viewpoint, they’re two guys doing nighttime yoga in a darkened room. Another good video idea, maybe, but for now they’re glad there aren’t any cameras around.

“You ready?” Rhett asks, waggling his fingers in the air.

He hears Link slap his arms onto the floor. _Added traction, smart._ “Yeah. Have at it, brother.”

A certain thrill bubbles in Rhett’s chest as he latches onto Link’s costume. Link is panting hard, then screeching as Rhett pulls back with nearly all his weight. They struggle, with Rhett joining Link’s shrieks, then the pants finally slide off like peels on overripe bananas. Rhett cheers triumphantly, throwing his arms into the air, but Link stammers over him with a panic to his voice.

“Dude! You—d-don’t look!”

“What? I just got ‘em off!”

“Don’t _look!_ ”

“I won’t, I can’t even see!”

Rhett hears the rustle of fabric along with Link’s heavy breathing, but further into the distance he hears the whir of electronic devices, charging and powering up. He knows what’s happening, intuits the lights will flicker on any moment now, and despite this he trains his eyes on the shadows in front of him, curious of the motion.

Rhett is unusually ready—eager, even—as the lights finally switch on. Lying on the ground before him is Link, blushing and sweaty. Rhett notices his hands are frozen on the waistband of his flamingo boxers. The garment sits loosely on Link’s pelvis, where small tufts of dark hair peek out from underneath. “You pulled ‘em right off me,” Link heaves, finally resting his hands at his sides. It takes a moment for Rhett to recognize what he’s referring to (his eyes must’ve given it away), and it takes even longer for him to comprehend his role in the entire situation.

Rhett leans back on the balls of his feet. “I pulled your underwear off?” he sputters.

“Well, you pulled off the pants which pulled off my underwear,” Link replies, propping himself up on his elbows. “Good thing the power was out, huh?”

“Very good thing,” Rhett says, though not without a lick of his lips. “Sorry about that.”

Link sits up and clears his throat. “It’s alright. It was sort of freeing, y’know. Being naked in the dark.”

“You would like nighttime skinny dipping, then,” Rhett says, getting to his feet and pulling Link up with him. It’s a naturally flirty suggestion, one that takes Link a second to register before turning to Rhett and laughing. Rhett chuckles back in response.

Eventually, they return to their respective spots on the couch and in front of the mirror. Link holds up the costume again, still damp from their earlier feat, and sighs. “Here’s hoping Take Two turns out any better, huh?”

He steps into the costume, now forwards and right-side up, while Rhett looks up at him and smiles. His eyes linger for longer than usual. “Yeah,” he says, “let’s hope.”


End file.
